


Dancing Dirt Into The Snow

by Ellie5192



Series: Chasing Rainbows [5]
Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Tag: s02e20 Lay Down Your Burdens II, can stand alone, canon-friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:04:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fighting her own personal battle wasn't nearly as devastating as watching the people walk into a situation she can’t protect them from; a choice they shouldn't have made but did anyway"<br/>Follows How To Tame Lions in the Chasing Rainbows series. A/R, shippy but canon-friendly, can stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Dirt Into The Snow

**Dancing Dirt Into The Snow**

She looks about ready to collapse. It’s been almost two months since he’s seen her, the job of allocating resources for permanent structures a long and arduous task. Galactica is still the backbone of the fleet, and Bill couldn’t deny Saul’s chances to be with his wife, and so the majority of oversight has fallen to him. He’s tired, weary, sick of dealing with Baltar and frankly ready to just sleep for a few days. This of course doesn’t mean he has to sleep in his rack.

Watching Laura briefly as she collects the few precious books they have, he can see all of his feelings reflected in her.

It’s been a hard few weeks for the settlement. The weather is starting to turn, and the people are not adjusting particularly well. He knows this is just the beginning, and won’t admit that it terrifies him. Viruses and bacteria that they don’t have cures for are running rampant as the season changes, and a particularly nasty strain hit the children hard. Laura has lost three of her kids in the time he’s been gone, and countless others have been affected, and it shows in her drawn eyes and staggered movements.

He steps fully inside the school tent, shuffling his feet loud enough to alert her. She looks up at the noise, and immediately the tension drains from her frame, and her eyes brighten, and she smiles wide enough to call it toothy. It throws him that his presence is the reason for such a change in her, but accepts that he’s most likely no better himself, and he doesn’t mind that.

“Bill” she greets softly, resting her hand lightly on the neat pile of books she’s collected. “It’s good to see you”

The tenderness of her tone makes the words seem far more personal than they are, and he smiles back at her.

“You too Laura”

She quirks one more smile at him before turning back to collect the stack of books and put them on the tiny shelf at the side of the room.

Immediately she looks tired again, and she gives a sigh under her breath, running a hand through her unruly hair as she turns back to him.

“It’s been a hard couple of months” he says gently, factually, understanding.

“That it has” she says quietly with a nod. “Very hard. We lost Suzie last week” she adds, eyes staring at nothing on the floor, her head shaking minutely at the loss.

He steps forward, his eyes sad, making a gesture, though he doesn’t know how to console a grieving pseudo-mother who has lost one of the precious few she promised to protect with every fibre of her being. He is probably one of the very few who understands the nuance of her grief, but he’s unsure of where the boundary lies, and he knows she internalises, and both of these factor into his hesitance.

“Seven years old” she mutters, her eyes still unfocused on the floor. “What a waste”

She shakes herself out of her reverie as he steps into her personal space, and offers him a look that’s not quite a smile. He takes her hand gives it a squeeze. She squeezes back.

Linking their arms and ducking her head, she leads them out of the school tent and towards the nearest thing they have to a bar. He doesn’t comment, but she must notice his confusion, because she only smiles at him sideways.

“Just picking up a bottle, then we’ll head home. Wouldn’t want to entertain company without something to offer”

He chuckles at her tone, and understands what she’s not saying. After this day, this month, a stiff drink with a good friend is just the right kind of night.

A few minutes later, bottle in hand, they make their way to a familiar structure, and he can see the fatigue catching up to her in every step closer to her bed. She’s lucky to still be walking.

They both collapse on her canvas cot, because there is nowhere else to sit. She’d had a leather couch at one point, but with more and more people settling on the planet, there’s just not enough furniture going around for people to start hoarding, though the tattered rug still remains on her wooden floor. She’s been offered more furniture from a multitude of people, but she can always find a family who need it more than she does, and can never justify the use when she works such hours at the school, so all that remains is the rug, her cot, a crate for a side table and a small stove set. A lamp and a couple of books adorn the crate table, her small bag of clothes on the floor near the bed, and he wonders if she’s always been so utilitarian or if part of her heart has yet to settle here and make it her own.

She lets out a huff as she opens the bottle of moonshine, takes a generous swig, purses her teeth against the taste and passes him the bottle. He takes it, and she closes her eyes, one hand rising to rub at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, her expression almost a wince. He swigs from the bottle once before placing it on the floor.

“I don’t remember ever being this tired” she says lowly, and he recognises the significance of what she’s saying, given how she was barely over a year ago. Fighting her own personal battle wasn’t nearly as devastating as watching the people walk into a situation she can’t protect them from; a choice they shouldn’t have made but did anyway.

The late afternoon light is dwindling, leaving enough glow to see by, but not enough for something like reading. She won’t light the lamp yet.

Taking the extra folded blanket from the end of the bed, he tosses it neatly to the ground between his legs.

“Here. Sit”

She opens her eyes, seeing what he’s implying, and she doesn’t have to be told twice. With a silent huff she hoists herself to the ground, adjusting the blanket under her, pulling her hair over one shoulder with practice.  
His hands feel warm through her light jumper. He starts softly, working the muscle with ease of practice, working slowly to release the tension that radiates right into her head. It hurts at times, and she lets out the occasional moan or wince, but it’s a good burn, and she can feel the knots easing out. She’ll return the favour later, but for now she gives herself the luxury of allowing someone to take care of her.

He works her neck, shoulders and upper back for so long that her muscles feel light as air. He kisses her hair as he finishes, rubbing her upper arms.

She half asleep and it doesn’t feel too intimate to let her head fall back against his stomach, her eyes closed. He scrapes his nails along her scalp, combing through her hair, and she hums.

“You’ll put me to sleep”

It’s hardly protest enough to make him stop.

“You obviously need it”

She huffs humourlessly.

“You’re probably the only one who knows how much”

She blindly picks up the bottle from where he’d put it on the floor, taking a deep gulp before passing it back to him. Her eyes fall fully closed again, and her head rests back against him, her legs stretching out in front of her. He takes the bottle.

They won’t stay this way long, nor will they finish all the drink. The light has completely faded now, the night coming quickly and staying for long hours, with only the glow from outside floodlights providing any illumination. It’s still relatively early, but neither of them is up for a late one, and it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea to turn in and have a fresh start tomorrow.

Her bed is just big enough for two people to fit, provided they enjoy being well in each other’s space, limbs tangled. They’ll share the space tonight, fully clothed for warmth, and he knows they’ll sleep long and deep for being together. It’s a gesture so intimate- so personal- that he’s almost embarrassed by it, except it’s Laura, and there’s an ease with her that’s hard to quantify; impossible to grasp. He will always consider Saul his best friend, but there’s a connection with Laura he’s never had before. If he didn’t want her so much- didn’t crave the breaking down of that last barrier- what they have would be enough love and attention to fulfil him.

Wordlessly he taps her shoulder, moving back on the cot while kicking off his shoes. There’s nothing else practical enough to sleep in, so he sheds his jacket and belt and leaves the rest on. She sluggishly rises from the floor, grasping the blanket she was sitting on, and kicks her own boots off. He lies back, as far to the opposite edge as he can manage, and she tosses the blanket over them, sliding in beside him, facing him, low enough under his chin to tuck her nose against his neck. They wrap their arms around each other, mainly because there isn’t enough space to do otherwise, and he hears her release a long, weary sigh. She settles further into his embrace, and he rubs slow circles on her back, soothing, reminding her that despite their distance she is not alone. He feels sleep tugging at him too, and her breathing is settled enough that he allows himself to be pulled under, their heartbeats synchronising and their breathing shallow and long.

It’s a lullaby he longs to hear every night, and maybe one day he’ll tell her that.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. Another train fic.  
> Title comes from the song of the same name by Missy Higgins.


End file.
